


The Crumbling Difference Between Wrong and Right

by Hunter Stu (stunudo)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Depression, F/M, Grief, I don't know why I keep doing this to the poor man, Mental Illness, Sam Angst, Show level violence, letting go, yet here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21672331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunudo/pseuds/Hunter%20Stu
Summary: A look back over their time together only finds more questions than answers.Flashbacks in italics.Beta-work and Beautiful aesthetic from @thoughtslikeaminefieldTitle and inspired by 'Round Here' by Counting Crows
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	The Crumbling Difference Between Wrong and Right

She left him often. In big ways and small. He didn’t always notice, and she never really meant to, but it stung all the same. Sam had grown from instability, on resourcefulness and strategy. She grew like a wildflower in a manicured lawn, beautiful in an out-of-place kind of way; defiant in her radiance. He didn’t know if she was coming home until she did. Then, she didn’t.

Dean watched Sam watch the pyre, the flames reflecting in his eyes as tears dribbled out, heavy with the unsaid.

They found her two days too late, the rancid den caked in filth as they dragged her away from what remained of the ghouls. She always had a knack for finding hideouts, it would have been helpful if they’d known she’d been on the case. She wasn’t one to hunt alone.

Dean stood in the beating wind as long as Sam needed, watching the fire take her away for good. He almost hated her in that moment, seeing what she did to Sam— what she always did to him.

^*^*^

_ Sam found her at the bathroom mirror, making faces at herself, teeth bared and eyes aghast, barefoot in yesterday’s shirt. He always seemed to breathe deeper with her around and he took a few hollowing ones before he asked when she got in. _

_ She giggled once she realized he was there, feigning a casual demeanor as she answered softly. He met her at the sink, arms reaching around her for his toothbrush and paste, working through her space instead of moving her, comfortable without being cumbersome. Physically, they had always existed like a Venn diagram, if not touching, overlapping to the point where they were hard to differentiate._

_She played with his hair as he went through his routine, emphasizing his rolling eyes before he pinned her to his chest, freshly shaved chin wedging between her shoulder and neck. She stayed for three months after that morning, almost long enough for it to feel real._

^*^*^

_ Donna’s laugh broke through the conversation, another round of beers passed between them as she told Jody and Donna about their last case, mocking Dean’s angry eyes and keeping her hand snugly in Sam’s back pocket. Sam loved to listen to her stories, even if he had lived them, she never failed to put on a show. It was safe here, with friends, because she didn’t feel the pressure to perform, to entertain, to earn her space. Here they all shared smiles, those that weren’t a currency. _

_On the back porch, Sam felt Jody sigh at them in a nostalgic and approving sort of way. It filled him with a warmth that Dean’s appraising glances had sapped. He nodded back through the kitchen window before settling in on the old picnic table beside her. _

_Eyes drifting to the stark winter sky, two borrowed blankets tight over her shoulders, she shivered and shined into the dark. That was the night he decided he’d wait for her forever. If she left for twenty years, he’d be there when she wandered home. If it was love, it was one that could only exist between two broken hunters who, at their cores, were optimists._

_Sam left her to her stargazing, rejoining the dwindling post hunt ruckus. Dean half expected her to set up camp in Jody’s backyard; she’d gotten so comfortable with their friends. Even Claire seemed to tolerate her. He didn’t quite get it, but he kept that to himself. They left with the sun and were back in the bunker by lunchtime._

^*^*^

_On one of her sudden appearances, she showed up just to shut down for a week. _

_ She wouldn’t go outside, barely leaving their bedroom. She hummed to herself when she thought no one was within earshot. Sam found her on the fourth day, crying in frustration from crying. _

_Silently, he picked her up, laid her on the bed and curled around her until she quieted. Once she had control of her breathing, he started talking about his dad— about the dozens of schools, the motels and the countless boxes of macaroni. _

_He told her about Dean and how his every good memory always trailed back to his big brother bearing more than any kid should. He talked about how he had accepted himself as a freak before he understood what was truly wrong with him. He whispered about regret and vice and promises of better days._

_She listened, his voice her anchor in the abyss, but she couldn’t or wouldn’t offer him anything in return. Inside, she knew her stories didn’t matter, because she was defective. The bad things that had happened to her were not centuries in the making, weren’t earth shattering or soul crushing. Her weaknesses could be boiled down to a simple inaptitude for life in the linear. No one said it out loud, but even by hunters’ standards, she was a mess. It took two long cases and a salt and burn before Sam caught her true smile again. It felt like a secret honor to know which of her faces were genuine, which ones only shone in his presence. _

Relief was good for dreaming.

^*^*^

Sam didn’t know who to call. He scrolled through her phone searching for names that struck something in his memory. So many had cities for last names he wasn’t sure he should try so hard. Then he worried there were others like him somewhere, and he would want to know, if he hadn’t been there to find her. Even if it was another guy’s voice breaking the news. Eventually he worked out how to add on to her outgoing message, letting whoever called know that she was gone. Never to be sure that there weren’t any others. That his name was the only one in three blaring capitals, a beacon and a prayer in her mind.

Dean watched him keep the thing charged, a new routine to cling to. Dean didn’t care how he managed it as long as he was staying above the breakers. Sam was a tough son-of-a-bitch, they both should have been used to this by now.

^*^*^

_She stretched over his torso, slamming the alarm clock with a finality much heavier than five more minutes. Her breasts pillowed her collapse onto his ribs, settling in, mumbling through her pout. _

_He’d been awake, counting her breaths, allowing his own to overpower his need to move. Her legs tangled around his, a welcomed trap. They lingered in the lazy kisses, teasing and priming and tickling until lines were drawn and eyes snapped open. Dimples and teeth, breaking her down just to coax a certain grin from her pleading lips._

_Once he was done with her, she fell back asleep stubbornly with only the pillows to cling to. Sam had stolen the blankets, another demand left unfulfilled. Of course, he’d rather keep her in his bed than not, asleep or otherwise. The pillowcases would keep her scent for him long enough to stave off the usual melancholy of missing her._

^*^*^

_Dean wasn’t expecting her to show up, but it happened to be one of the times he underestimated her. She hugged him, long and tight, longer when he tried to pull away. _

_Sam almost laughed at the look on his brother’s face, until he remembered what brought her back this time. Their mom was dead, even if Dean wasn’t talking about it. _

_She didn’t hug Sam like she did Dean, instead she cupped his jaw and stared into his eyes, helping him allow himself to be seen. He sniffed against the onslaught, shaking his head as she softened further, leaning up to kiss his forehead. He dropped his face to her shoulder and cried, hands at her shoulders, bracing himself against her, his long-weathered rock._

_She always knew Dean didn’t trust her, but she never blamed him; after all, she didn’t trust herself. They let Sam organize the tribute to Mary, she sensed whenever a new group of hunters showed up to pay their respects, their presence only added to Dean’s annoyance. _

_She had met Mary in passing, not long enough an acquaintance to have something to add to the stories. But she got to experience Mary’s strongest legacy each time she caught Dean checking on Sam, when Sam chided Dean’s eating habits. These boys existed because a hunter tried to live a normal, safe life and died in the process. Even eventually accepting her family’s calling, led Mary to another early death. _

_Fair had never been in their vocabulary._

_As fast as they gathered, the hunters dispersed, leaving the Bunker to the boys and their sometimes roommate. That night Sam told her about seeing his mom as a ghost and again as a young woman, but nothing had prepared him for her return. _

_She felt the slightly bitter tone as he explained how Dean was Mary’s favorite, saw how he tried to bury that truth with logic and grace. At least she was with John now, they agreed. Uncertain what afterlife meant for them, both with pieces of their hearts already waiting for them in the beyond._

_Sam felt her leave on the third morning, quick and quiet, no ceremony or farewell. It was the last time he’d see her alive. _

_If she’d known, would she have broken the pattern and stayed? Would she have come back at all?_

^*^*^

_The bodies were few and far between, teasing her resolve as she stumbled on the remains during an entirely different hunt. She hated a mystery, and this one kept her awake, a puzzle with an unseen timer. A different victim, a different deadline. _

_She didn’t have enough to bring it to Sam and Dean, though she did have a gnawing uncertainty and a four-county-wide dumpsite. One of the burdens and blessings of a mind like hers was its ability to focus on a task and ignore all others. Unchecked, she’d tread the gap between obsessed and consumed._

_They drained her slowly, in turns. Fresh wounds against old scars, she watched them enjoy her bounty. Eventually she made her peace and stopped searching for spite or regrets or something to hold onto. _

_Instead she thought about Sam, somewhere safe. Head propped up on his hand at the library table, laptop open and a book in his lap; the way he could sleep sitting up; his big hand that was always warm. How lucky she was for knowing him, how much she hoped for him, and even some soft afterthoughts for Dean. _

_She let go thinking about the greens and browns of the earth and the blues and blacks of the sky— eyes up and smile on._

^*^*^

_The ghoul had lured him in with her face, but it couldn’t mimic her light. _

_Sam swung first, causing Dean to nearly fall on his ass in shock. The partner took the opening and got a solid elbow to Dean’s neck. It was over before Sam could make it worth it, before Dean found her, cold and empty. _

_The desperation surged through Sam, denial numbing his hands to the stiffness of her body, covering the stench of decay. He cradled her to his chest, impossibly smaller than ever before. A shell of her larger than life soul._

_At the pyre, Sam felt Dean’s silent suspicions, but he wouldn’t entertain it. It was so vapidly inappropriate that it churned his stomach to try to reason with it. _

_Instead, he watched the fire burn, slow to tear into her, knowing its own and acknowledging the loss, before calling her back from whence she came: energy and ether._

^*^*^

The visions had grown more gruesome, the taste of demon blood stuck on his tongue.

Sam felt Chuck’s revisions without calculating their weight. His mind had enough to process. When she started toeing in their periphery, he wouldn’t look back at her. He refused to even acknowledge her presence. It was only in his head.

Her timing was better than this. Sam let her remain in the audience, let Chuck taunt him without overwhelming him. It was time she got to see his demons. He had juggled enough of hers.

When Chuck was finally finished and Sam felt himself slipping away, her voice carried him over the final barrier, to where Jess and Bobby, Mary and John were waiting for him. Of course, Dean brought her up, asking if Sam had seen her since they arrived.  
Sam sighed and shook his head at Dean, content and reassuring, “Can’t keep what doesn’t want to stay.”

^*^*^


End file.
